


Stranger Things

by LunaDeSangre



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M, Oz Magi's Party in the Dress Factory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9356846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaDeSangre/pseuds/LunaDeSangre
Summary: Gonna have to get you a tattoo, Schillinger'd told him when they'd been locked in for the night, on Ryan's first night in that pod.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dustandroses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/gifts).



> Oz Magi 2016, Party in the Dress Factory  
> Wish #14, Request 2:  
> Pairing/Character(s): Schillinger/Someone besides Beecher who arrived in the first episode of Season One. (For instance: Miguel Alvarez, Ryan O’Reily, Donald Groves, or Kenny Wangler)  
> Keyword/Prompt Phrase: “Gonna have to get you a tattoo.”  
> Canon/AU/Either: Canon  
> Special Requests: No non-canon character death, please.  
> Story/Art/Either: Either

One of the things that would remain one of the biggest mysteries of Oz, years after the fact, will be the disappearance of inmates Vern Schillinger and James Robson, and CO Karl Metzger. None of the staff will ever have even a clue, but some of the guys who'd been there then, when asked, will always get a little smirkish smile on their faces as they made some vague, random allusion to chicken and nuggets and the importance of not overcooking white meat enough to make it all brown and crispy. No new fish will ever get it, and it'll just make them laugh.

Life, some wise man's said once, is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. Except the devious mind of some devious guy somewhere, right, 'cause how would it get stranger otherwise?

 _Gonna have to get you a tattoo_ , Schillinger'd told him when they'd been locked in for the night, on Ryan's first night in that pod. And because Ryan had seen this coming, seen the long look as he'd changed on his first day in Em City, he'd said _Oh no, I've already got one, thanks._ And he'd stood up, removed his shirt and deliberately shown Schillinger his back, deliberately made him stare. He'd looked back over his shoulder with his best innocent look and Schillinger had moved from the bed to just behind him, one hand grasping his neck, the other possessively going down his spine to roughly cup his ass inside his jeans, rub two fingers against Ryan's asshole, and failing to push easily inside, ask _That a tight virgin ass, O'Reily?_ And Ryan had clenched his fists and choked _Yessir_ , tamping down on everything that made him want to rip the guy's throat off, bare-handed or with his teeth, and forced himself to add _But I'd rather it wasn't._ Schillinger had laughed, disgusting and smug and delighted, and tried to push one finger in, and Ryan had slipped from the grip on his neck and purposely lost his balance towards the glass, hitting it with a nice loud thunk, knowing it'll bring the hacks down on them.

 _I'm sorry, sir_ , he'd said once they'd gone with a warning, wide-eyed and sincere, before Schillinger could even open his mouth. _But I work in the kitchen, and there's a room off the right side, where we keep the meat freezers, it's always empty and maybe you could meet me there tomorrow after lunch? We'd have more privacy to do whatever you want, sir_ , and Schillinger had stared at him, but Ryan had dropped his gaze and bitten his lower lip, shuffled a bit and looked back up, furtively, from behind his eyelashes, and Schillinger had smiled all disgusting and smug and satisfied, and said _Be all nice and cleanly shaved for me, prag._

He'd gone back to his bed, thinking he was the fucking king, and Ryan had gone to his and waited for morning, when he'd suffered through another groping and made a beeline for the showers as soon as Schillinger had gone to breakfast, offering Keane to the Latinos in exchange for a guy fast with a shank and with a really strong stomach. He hadn't been too impressed at first they'd given him the youngest, smallest one with the tortured broody face who kept primping in front of a mirror, but Alvarez had been there, hiding behind the door with a stolen scalpel, that very afternoon as Ryan waited for Schillinger in the room he'd indicated, knees to his chest and arms around them on the table, chin on top, deliberately vulnerable, all nice and cleanly shaved and wearing his most earnest expression and absolutely nothing else. _You're loco_ , Alvarez had said right before, pulling on the kitchen uniform Ryan had found for him as Ryan arranged their discarded clothes in a carefully messy pile covering his own uniform and Alvarez's shoes in the furthest corner and told him where to hide, but he'd done as he was told because Ryan'd been loco, but he'd been interesting, too.


End file.
